John Howland and his Elizabeth go in the doorway of the Alden’s house for a social call—and find Francis Cooke and his wife, Hester, there, also, and soon after, the Captain and his wife, Barbara, enter, and there is laughter and chat, while the women’s fingers ply the knitting needles, for even in recreation moments the women can seldom afford to be wholly idle. Hester is an old Leyden friend to Priscilla and Elizabeth, though not of English birth, while Barbara is a new friend to them all, Hester having made her acquaintance on the sea voyage which brought them both to Plymouth. Francis Cooke had a comfortable house awaiting his wife and children, and Hester, naturally, quite fitted in with the first comers.
In the large house of the Hopkins, we see a number of the youngest inhabitants of Plymouth having a very jolly time—Giles and Constance being responsible. Here are Mary and Bartholomew Allerton, John and Jane Cooke, Patience Morton and Thomas Cushman, Ann and Sarah Warren, William Palmer and Samuel Jenny, even Jacob Cooke and Damaris Hopkins are admitted, also Mercy Sprague, Samuel Fuller, Resolved White and Sarah Annable, for at these children’s parties the early hours kept could not rob even the youngest of much sleep. We know how many of the future marriages in Plymouth came from this gay group. Stephen Hopkins and his wife have gone out themselves and we see them in the home of Richard Warren, whose wife and daughter Mary, having gotten the youngest girls, Elizabeth and Abigail, in bed are glad to welcome company. Two of their fellow passengers in the Anne are also present, one being Robert Bartlett, whose interest in Mary began on their ocean voyage, which has a very modern sound. The other visitor is Ellen Newton, who came out with these friends, and is soon to marry John Adams, who preceded her in the Fortune.
Here is another gathering at the home of John and Sarah Jenny, who, with their three children, arrived on the Little James, they are of the old Leyden company; also we see here Stephen Tracy and Triphosa, his French wife and their little girl, Sarah, who has come to have a frolic with her playmates, Abigail and Sarah, while the parents are absorbed in their own affairs; they are soon joined by William Palmer (who came with his son in the Fortune) and his wife, Frances, a passenger in the Anne. The happy-go-lucky, or unlucky, household of the Billingtons is evidently satisfied with its own family this evening.
And to look further we see other homes whose inmates are strangers to us, though not to all of our earliest acquaintances, such as Francis and Anna Sprague, whose little girl, Mercy, is at the Hopkins, this evening; Anthony and Jane Annable, their oldest child we have also seen at the party but Sarah and Hannah are at home; Ralph Wallen and Joyce, his wife, Edward and Rebecca Bangs, with two children romping at home; Robert Hicks with Margaret and three children; also Mr. and Mrs. Edward Burcher, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Flavell and Mr. and Mrs. William Hilton and little boys (all of the latter arrived by the Anne) besides numerous single men of the Fortune, Anne and Little James, who are quite welcome at the different houses. With so many young men, the girls had numbers to choose from, as each would have been glad for a wife and home of his own. Light refreshments add to the social hour we see, possets and manchets with home-brewed ale, and nuts, or the beverage made of roots, flavored with sassafras, similar to modern root beer, and popcorn—both the latter Indian additions to their knowledge. The possets and manchets are little cakes, the former sometimes called “sweet shrub” made of flour, sugar and spice, while manchets are flour, made without the spice and baked brown like our cookies.
Having thus seen who is who in Plymouth by the lights of the houses, “shining like stars in the dark and mist of the evening,” we will observe some passing events, from this time, which were of interest to the women, either for themselves or members of their families or friends.
This happy winter passed into their history, and spring coming found the Plymouth people with hearts more in tune to the joy and hope of its opening buds and bird songs than ever before.
On a March day, the first ship of the season from England came into view. If one has ever lived, in modern times, far from native land and many dear friends, as on island possessions, for instance, in civil or military life, with ships coming safely to harbor, the only chance of communication with the outside world, bringing letters, packages of gifts or a friend or two, perchance, with weeks or months of interval between sight of a ship from over-seas, one may easily comprehend just how the women of Plymouth felt when a ship was coming in. And though the women did not write or receive letters very often, in those days, yet they heard the contents of those which frequently came to their husbands and could think and talk of the tidings for many a day.
The Charity brought Susanna Winslow’s husband home to her and to his welcoming friends. His mission had been eminently successful and proved the adage of “If you want a thing done well, do it yourself,” for Winslow knowing each need of the colony, brought back the proper supplies for trade with the Indians or the fishing ships, and adequate selection of clothing for all. Having a wife, he knew what to buy for the women, and what the children needed, besides special commissions in way of books or household comforts as they existed, at that time, elsewhere. The colony was not rich—either as a whole or by individual wealth—but though bearing a heavy debt to the Merchants, they had to live while every effort was being made to reduce the original, and the Merchants were usually willing to add to their obligation, especially since their exports were so marketable. Also some of the families had personal credit in England, even though for several years the results of their trade went to reduce the common debt, and the only personal gain allowed in Plymouth was from selling the products of their own lands to one another. Corn was legal tender, nothing else was needed or of greater value to them or the natives, until a later date. Therefore the Elder, the Governor, the Captain, could rejoice in more books, the women in the last word of costume detail from London or Leyden suitable to their present situation. We are quite sure that Mary Chilton, Patience Brewster and the other girls, as well as the young brides, were just as particular about the set of a broad brimmed hat, or the ribbons on a velvet hood, as interested in whether white neckwear had bows or tassels to fasten it, and if silver shoe buckles were engraved or plain, as any woman of today in her up-to-date appearance.
In addition to the many personal interests connected with Edward Winslow’s return, he had purchased several head of cattle, and the children watched with greatest curiosity—and some alarm to those who had never seen such creatures—the approach of the small boats from the ship with ropes trailing behind attached to the horns and necks of the cows, swimming valiantly to their new home. Their familiar appearance brought an increased home feeling to the women. From that day milk was never lacking for beverage, butter, and cheese; goat’s milk was no longer their only supply.
And of great interest to many was a certain book which Winslow had written and had printed that winter, in London, called “Good News From New England.” This publication which threw the picture of themselves and their surroundings sharply before the eyes of many on the screen of public intelligence, in England, was a factor in their life thereafter by its results. Business for the colony was not concluded at the time Winslow wished to return to Plymouth, and, as he brought letters requesting his further presence, to continue these matters, the governor agreed to his leaving them again, and Susanna could do nothing but consent also.